Out the Box
I thought I did Hip Hop.
Niggas say I do backpack music.
I don't own diamonds
There's nothing in the lining
Call me a backpacker
I keep the music climbin'
I've got heart, I've got soul
Ready or not I think out the box
Niggas ... to call our names, put me in categories
My story?
I guess I backpack my way to glory
With a napsack I'm strapped
Like a days of awe
My question - did the hip hop loose its soul?
Am I to just pigeonhole with no room to grow?
I do songs to perform, not to come to blows
I'm a professional you know?
Don't label me nigga, all the sizzles closed
I chose to wear earth tones,
And leave rappers like the colour on my birthstones
Like a thief with
And told them to wild
I'm home grown but I'm fond to advance
I became my own man, god damn!
It's all about hard work nigga leave nothing to chance
I gotta move forward, I gotta advance
Please quit with the glancing
I've been doing this since Hally Hansen
Wasn't
Nigga must you keep asking?
I do it for the love, why you got that reaction?
Yo, bare for radio to hot for TV
My BDS scams are embarassing slightly
I'm still waiting for VH1 to mic me
They say I'm too underground for MTV
Like a little to deep for average listeners
Spit a verse that'll fuck up your algorithms
I sound like the birdmans grill
Got an abundance of rap skill so I spill
My beans on this industry niggas that
Well I'm fat like a sound
Like the Matrix they call it a machine
I'm straight to the point like a laser beam
Got a lock on my spot like
Or credits on production
Mic check one, one, two, three
I'm no tree hugger, vegan or activist
Well, maybe when it comes to this rapping shit
I'm trying to filter those who pop up like spam if I can
But bill boys
Niggas say I do backpack music.
I don't own diamonds
There's nothing in the lining
Call me a backpacker
I keep the music climbin'
I've got heart, I've got soul
Ready or not I think out the box
Niggas ... to call our names, put me in categories
My story?
I guess I backpack my way to glory
With a napsack I'm strapped
Like a days of awe
My question - did the hip hop loose its soul?
Am I to just pigeonhole with no room to grow?
I do songs to perform, not to come to blows
I'm a professional you know?
Don't label me nigga, all the sizzles closed
I chose to wear earth tones,
And leave rappers like the colour on my birthstones
Like a thief with
And told them to wild
I'm home grown but I'm fond to advance
I became my own man, god damn!
It's all about hard work nigga leave nothing to chance
I gotta move forward, I gotta advance
Please quit with the glancing
I've been doing this since Hally Hansen
Wasn't
Nigga must you keep asking?
I do it for the love, why you got that reaction?
Yo, bare for radio to hot for TV
My BDS scams are embarassing slightly
I'm still waiting for VH1 to mic me
They say I'm too underground for MTV
Like a little to deep for average listeners
Spit a verse that'll fuck up your algorithms
I sound like the birdmans grill
Got an abundance of rap skill so I spill
My beans on this industry niggas that
Well I'm fat like a sound
Like the Matrix they call it a machine
I'm straight to the point like a laser beam
Got a lock on my spot like
Or credits on production
Mic check one, one, two, three
I'm no tree hugger, vegan or activist
Well, maybe when it comes to this rapping shit
I'm trying to filter those who pop up like spam if I can
But bill boys
Credits
Writer(s): Rr
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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